


Cut That Out

by DangerousCommieSubversive



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Secret Six
Genre: Coming In Pants, Hand Jobs, Impatience, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/DangerousCommieSubversive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daken's being a pain in the ass, and Lester decides to teach him a lesson. Meanwhile, Thomas just <em>can't sit still,</em> and Floyd comes up with a way to make him stay put.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cut That Out

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on an anonymous request for a fic featuring either Daken/Bullseye or Catman/Deadshot, where one party made the other come in his pants. I had some good ideas, so I did both.

_Touch._

_Brush._

_Wink._

“Will you  _cut_ that the fuck out,” Lester hisses as he lines up a shot. “I'm fucking concentrating.”

“It's not like you can't hit it.” Daken's a purr in his ear, a pressure at his shoulders as they watch each others' backs. “You're magic, aren't you?”

“And don't you fucking forget it.”

 

–

 

Thomas can't sit still.

Not that he ever  _can,_ but today he's worse than usual. He fidgets. He paces. He bounces on the balls of his feet, like he's a cat about to pounce or a boxer about to punch.

Floyd rolls his eyes. “Siddown, Tomcat, you're makin' me nervous.”

“I'm  _bored._ ”

“So? Crime's fucking boring. Sit your ass down.”

Thomas sits down next to him with a thump. “Why are we even  _here?_ ”

“Scandal says jump, I tell her not to boss me and then jump anyway. She wants big names and muscle to impress the clients.”

“You don't  _have_ muscle.”

Floyd punches him in the ear. “I'm the big name, asshole.  _You're_ the muscle.”

Thomas rubs at his ear, looking annoyed, and then says, “So you want me to blow you?”

Floyd almost drops his cigarette.

 

–

 

“You. Are the fucking  _worst._ ”

Daken rolls his eyes. “I hardly think  _I'm_ the one on this team who could claim  _that_ title.”

Lester's teeth are a wall. It's a wonder he hasn't  _already_ gone for a knife. “You tried to stick your fucking tongue down my throat in front of the  _media._ ”

Ares doesn't even look back from his seat at the front of the Quinjet. “Children. Behave.” Next to him, Karla covers her smile.

When they land at the tower, Victoria Hand greets them with, “Be at the briefing room in fifteen minutes,” and then disappears to go do whatever it is she does. Mac heads for the kitchen, of course, muttering something about needing a snack. The rest of them disperse for their few precious minutes of privacy.

And Lester grabs Daken by the hair and drags him into the bathroom, ignoring his startled cursing. Kicks the door shut behind them and locks it.

Daken struggles, but only in the worst way, the way where he presses himself up against Lester and bucks with his hips so it feels like he's trying to fuck. He's smirking, too. He knows what this does to people, and to Lester especially. The little shit.

Then Lester grabs both of his wrists, slams them against the wall above his head, and stabs an arrow through them. It crunches deep into plaster and wood, and Daken bites off an obscenity, surprised. He's pinned.

He takes a heaving breath and tries to get his purr back. “You're feeling  _forceful_ today, Lester. I  _like_ it.”

Lester huffs and muscles in close. “Fucking  _distracting_ me. You're a real bitch, princess, you know that? You're a fucking high-maintenance girlfriend.”

“What can I say?” Daken can't shrug with his hands pinned above him. A trickle of blood runs down his palm and stains the sleeve of his costume. “I've been feeling neglected. You've been ignoring me, haven't you?”

“Huh.” Lester snorts. Another trail of blood catches his eye—this one from the corner of Daken's mouth—and now it's  _his_ turn to smirk. “Well, how's this for attention.” He licks the blood off Daken's face, long and slow, tracing Daken's lips with the tip of his tongue.

_“Mm.”_ Daken presses against him like a cat. His erection digs into Lester's stomach. “You  _are_ feeling attentive now.”

“Sure thing, princess. I'll give you  _all_ the attention you need.” Lester's hands are at Daken's waist, pulling up the top half of his costume. He pinches one of Daken's nipples,  _hard,_ and Daken gasps—say what you like, but Lester  _does_ always remember what he's learned.

“Did,  _ah,_ did you want to fuck me, sweetheart? I don't think we have  _time._ ”

Lester grins. “Nah.” Drops to his knees. “Just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.”

Daken's underwear is plain black cotton, mostly, and by now Lester's familiar enough not to roll his eyes at the designer name on the waistband. Besides, he's got a target; Daken's cock is tenting the cotton, a spot around the tip already slightly damp.  _Definitely_ ready for what Lester has planned. He leans forward and mouths at the damp spot, running his lips over the head of Daken's covered cock.

Daken sighs, shuddery. “ _This_ is giving me a taste of my own medicine?”

Lester ignores him and keeps going. The cotton tastes none too good, but it's thin enough that it's not really in the way. He slips a hand back, tugs the fabric there aside, pushes a finger in, and Daken shivers and bites off a moan.

_That_ means it's working. Fucker  _hates_ being noisy, means he might be losing control.

Lester smirks and goes down, the cotton pressed tight against the sides of Daken's cock.

 

–

 

“ _Christ,_ Tom. What'd make you wanna say a thing like that?”

Thomas shrugs, rocking irritably back and forth. “Bored. Horny.”

“Well, I appreciate the  _offer,_ but we don't have the  _time._ ” Floyd takes a puff of his cigarette. “Be patient, we can fuck when we're back at the house.”

For a minute, a single blessed minute, it's quiet, and Floyd can smoke in peace.

Then he feels a brush on his leg and looks down. Thomas is tracing a pattern on his thigh with light fingertips, and drumming irritably on his own leg with the other hand.

_Now_ Floyd's annoyed, and when he's annoyed sometimes he gets mean. Which, weirdly, and luckily for him, Thomas actually appreciates.

He grabs Thomas' wandering hand. “Cut that out.”

He's got a  _real_ mean idea. Thomas is either going to  _love_ it or try to kill him. Maybe both. He could go for both, that's always a good time.

He drops his cigarette in the ashtray, grabs Thomas by the back of the neck, and pulls him in close. “If you don't sit still,” he murmurs into the other man's ear, “I swear to god I'll tie you to that fucking chair.”

Thomas' cheeks flush suddenly. His breathing speeds up. “I'd like to see you  _try._ ”

“What, you think I can't do it?” He keeps one hand on Thomas' neck, slides the other one down into his lap. The costume's good fabric, but not so thick that it stops him from wrapping his hand around Thomas' cock and squeezing. “Ten to one says you'd  _let_ me.”

Thomas reaches for him, but his hands get lost somewhere along the way and just end up resting on Floyd's chest. “Floyd, what are you doing?” He's obviously going for annoyed himself, now, but his voice just comes out breathy, and when he tries to say something else Floyd squeezes again and he just trails off.

“You've been bouncing off the walls all fucking day.” Floyd strokes lazily as he talks, doing the best he can with cloth in the way. “Figured it was high time I did something that'd shut you up. That's what you were going for, right?”

There's a spot he's looking for, and it takes him a moment to remember where it is, but finally it clicks, and he leans in a little closer, presses his mouth to the side of Thomas' neck near his collarbone, and bites.

 

–

 

“Lester.” Daken's voice is high and breathless now, his hips are pumping involuntarily—though he can't move them much, not with Lester holding him hard to the wall and his hands still transfixed above his head. “Lester, what are you  _doing,_ you're going to make me—” and he cuts off with a gasp, bucking into Lester's mouth.

Lester's smile is tight around his cock, and he carefully crooks the finger that he's got pressed into Daken's ass. Not much longer now.

And  _there's_ the tell-tale shiver.

Just as Daken is jolting forward, Lester pulls away, and as he stands up Daken comes hard, soaking the front of his underwear.

Lester washes his hands, grinning nastily, and then gargles a cupful of water and spits into the sink. Daken just pants, still pinned to the wall, his visible skin beaded with sweat. “Lester.  _Lester._ Let me  _down._ ”

“Right, yeah, sure.” Lester comes back over, grinning, and tugs Daken's costume pants back up and his shirt back down. Then he reaches up and unceremoniously yanks the arrow out—of the wall,  _and_ Daken's hands. Daken curses explosively. Lester pats him on the shoulder. “You oughtta hurry if you wanna get cleaned up, princess, briefing's in a minute.”

And of course, there's Ares' voice from outside the bathroom. “Hawkeye! Wolverine! You will both  _attend_ the briefing if I have to  _drag_ you there.”

 

–

 

Thomas is red-faced now, his hands fisted in the front of Floyd's costume, his forehead pressed hard against Floyd's shoulder. “Floyd, if you don't quit it, I'm going to end up doing something embarrassing.”

Floyd smirks against his neck. “Shoulda thought of that before you got me going, shouldn't you?” He squeezes and strokes, squeezes and strokes. “You gonna tell me to stop?”

“N-no.  _Fuck._ No, don't stop.”

“Well, that's what you get for being obnoxious.” Floyd bites at the sensitive spot again, worries with his teeth.

“Look, Floyd, I'm going—I'm going to—”

“So who's stopping you?”  _Bite. Squeeze._

Thomas bites his lip to keep from gasping and comes. In his pants.

Scandal's voice from the next room says, “Gentlemen?”

Floyd hops to his feet, pulling his mask on. “ _And_ that's our cue.”

Thomas is a bit unsteady on his feet as they head for the door, his hands shaky as he pulls his cowl over his head. “I  _hate_ you.”

“No, you don't. If you  _hated_ me you woulda just killed me already.”

 

–

 

“Avengers, I'd like to introduce you to a recent business partner of mine.” Osborn's got a weird look on his face, a combination of irritation and self-satisfaction, as he gestures to the short woman sitting at the other end of the table. “Ms. Savage, these are my Avengers. Avengers, this is Scandal Savage. I have contracted with her team, the Secret Six, to provide backup for an upcoming mission.”

Scandal nods shortly. “I'm sure working with you all will be...interesting.” Floyd and Thomas stand flanking her chair, Thomas trying not to look uncomfortable, Floyd relying on his mask to hide his smirk. “Deadshot and Catman accompanied me here; the rest of the team will be arriving this evening.”

Karla is frowning. “Why do we need  _backup,_ Norman? We do just  _fine_ by ourselves.”

“The mission in question is projected to be unusually dangerous.” Victoria Hand barely even glances up from her manila folder. “Under the circumstances we felt additions to the team would be wise.”

Mac eyes Floyd and Thomas sidelong. “Don't we already  _have_ guys like them?”

There's bristling all around, as Daken and Lester look up to make eye contact with Floyd and Thomas. Hackles are clearly rising.

Daken shifts, almost imperceptibly, and forces the corner of his mouth not to turn down into a frown. He's going to  _kill_ Lester later. Instead, though, he makes himself smile. “I'm sure we'll work together  _very_ well.”

Lester just snorts. “I don't think I like the  _competition._ ”

 


End file.
